


Je me suis assis dans la fenêtre de ma chambre

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change People change. You can't do anything about that. Abandoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Characters, places, and South Park itself does not belong to me. I do however own a sweet pair of glittery heels.

Chapter Track: Sitting in the Window of my room – Alison Krauss

Here we go.

Stan checked his sidekick when it made the familiar ringing noise he had picked for it months ago to signal that he had a text. When it made the tinny noise around 6 p.m Stan had been re-checking his answers on his astronomy homework. He had been failing the class for the past semester, and his teacher had given him a warning that he needed to pass the class in order to graduate. He had been given several warnings like these by his other teachers, and Stan decided that he should make more of an effort to get better grades. The problem however was that he was always unsure of his own work even after it had been checked, and re-checked again. He had gotten into the habit lately of spending hours studying and finishing homework and his assignments for all eight of his classes.

He was six problems away from being done with his astronomy homework, and he was hoping to get them all done before seven so he could attempt to level up in WOW before going to bed. When his phone alerted him to the fact that he had a new text message, Stan picked up his red sidekick from it's place atop his American Government book. He smiled when he saw who had just sent him a message. It had been a long time since they had talked.

Red Sparks: Hey, can you talk?

Stan started texting him back, and as the minutes wore on, the following conversation took place.

Red Sparks: Hey, can you talk?

Black Mars: Sure. I've got some homework, but, you, know, it can wait. What's up?

Red Sparks: If you need to finish your homework I can text back later.

Black Mars: Dude, no! I haven't heard from you in like forever. Just talk to me. How've you been?

Red Sparks: Fine. I had my finals for the semester yesterday. I'm hoping I did well enough to pass. The New York educational system isn't what I thought it'd be when I first moved here. It's weird, but I've gotten used to it. You still have a few weeks before your finals right?

Black Mars: Five to be exact. I've been studying like crazy. I'm afraid of not graduating.

Red Sparks: Don't be. If you work hard I'm sure you'll graduate. Just keep working hard.

Black Mars: Thanks. How's your family doing?

Red Sparks: Well dad's going through a Nic Cage phase. After seeing National Treasure on cable every damn week he decided he needed to go buy every Nic Cage movie ever to prove to himself that they actually existed.

Black Mars: LOL

Red Sparks: And, mom is getting sick of New Yorkers. She says she can't stand the apathetic, anti-social nature Manhattanites have. And Ike, well, Ike is twelve and is an otaku. Not much left to say. We're all doing fine. How are the Marsh's?

Black Mars: I hate my mom. She's such a...what's the word? Bitch. She's so uptight and stern, she doesn't know how to just not have a negative attitude about everything. It's no wonder dad walked out, she was probably nagging him to death. Shelly is still in community college, but she refuses to do anything to help around the house when she's home. I mean, I don't expect her to like live in the kitchen or anything, but if mom and I are making dinner and doing the dishes the least she could fucking do is take the trash out, instead of just sitting on the damn couch for hours watching E! All day long. I've been spending weekends with my dad at his new apartment. He knows how to have fun, which is more than I can say about mom and Shelley. I think I should move in with him. I would, but I don't want to give my mom anymore reason to complain.

Red Sparks: That sucks. Sorry to hear that.

Black Mars: Yeah. But it's not all bad. I got to hear from you finally. It's been, what? Six months since you texted me? And like a year since we talked on the phone? Dude, we don't talk enough.

Red Sparks: Yeah, I know. I'm sorry but I've been busy with school and home and my friends. I don't always have the time to call or text.

Black Mars: I'm busy too! I mean, More recently, but I get distracted with my social life too.

Red Sparks: Stan I know you're lying, I play WOW with you, remember?

Black Mars: Well I am a tad more preoccupied by schoolwork nowadays.

Red Sparks: Dude, who the hell says "A tad" in normal conversations anymore?

Black Mars: Shut up. Anyway, since we're talking, I think we should at least make more of an effort to keep in contact.

Red Sparks: Um...

Black Mars: What?

Red Sparks: I actually wanted to say that, you shouldn't expect to hear from me for a while. Like ever.

Black Mars: What? Why?

Red Sparks: I'm not going to have anytime. The reason I haven't been in contact in so long is because I met someone.

Black Mars: Excuse me?

Red Sparks: I met him outside the Meat Market. He's really cool, and he goes to my school. We never ran into each other before since my school is so fucking huge, 42,000 student body. Anyway, We've been hanging out for the past six months. He's a little weird, but it's the cool kind of weird.

Black Mars: You're telling me you haven't been keeping in contact because you met someone? Who is this guy? And why is he taking up all your time?

Red Sparks: His name is Christophe De Lorn. He's French.

Black Mars: Pfffft. So what, you're gonna stop talking to me now that you have a new friend?

Red Sparks: He's my best friend, Stan.

Black Mars: Oh...

Red Sparks: Yeah... Look, I hate that this is happening, but it's been six years since I moved to New York. We've been drifting apart, and I think this was inevitable.

Black Mars: Please don't say that.

Red Sparks: Look at it this way. You can get a new best friend too.

Black Mars: I don't want a new best friend. I want my old one.

Red Sparks: Stan I'm sorry but I don't think it's fair to Christophe for me to call someone I barely contact my best friend. I have to go. Bye.

Black Mars: Kyle don't stop talking to me.

But he had stopped. Stan waited for forty minutes, but Kyle never texted him back. He tried calling, but Kyle wouldn't answer. Stan rested his head on his desk and cried. It finally happened. The moment he had been dreading. He had been replaced.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Track: Don't go – Robots in Disguise

After Kyle stopped texting, he sighed audibly, and placed his phone down on top of his blu-ray player. He leaned back in his swivel chair, eyes downcast, mouth set in a frown. He finally did what he had been putting off for months. He had fought internally over what to say and how to approach this, and ultimately realized that no matter how he said it, there was no way to tell Stan without hurting him.

But he needed to tell him, he didn't think it was fair to keep Stan way in Colorado thinking that they were still best friends when the truth was Kyle had moved on, and had a new best friend. The whole long distance friendship thing had been deteriorating for a while now. Kyle thought that maybe Stan had realized this too, but maybe he was ignoring it. When you realise something heavy like that, sometimes you don't want to accept it.

Kyle had accepted it. His friendship with Christophe had progressed normally, leaving no doubts in his mind that Christophe and he were great friends. Best friends. They had said the term out loud to each other and to other people, and it was pretty well established.

Still. Telling Stan that he had moved on, and he now had someone else he now called his best friend... no one ever said it would be easy. Just seeing the words being typed out by his own hands hurt him inside. He felt awful about telling Stan that he had a new best friend, so much so that he couldn't stand to talk to him anymore. He hastily said goodbye before putting his phone down. Kyle counted in his head the emotions rolling through him. Relief, guilt, worry, guilt again, and back to relief that he had finally done what he had been putting off. He hoped Stan could move on.

After all, six years had passed since he had moved, Stan must have made new friends in that time span, right? Kyle had, when he arrived in New York, when he first went to school. He had made lots of new friends, and a few enemies. But Christophe? Christophe had been the one person he had really gotten close to, the one person he spent the majority of his time with. The person who had come closer than anyone ever had to being of just as much importance to Kyle has Stan had once had. And in half a year's time Kyle felt that Christophe had earned that position as his best friend.

Speaking of Christophe, the guy himself came back into Kyle's room after he had gone into the kitchen to get a snack. Kyle didn't look up when Christophe came back, or when he sat on the edge of his bed.

"Can you tell your mother to get some better snacks? These baked salt and vinegar chips aren't cutting it."

"It's not my issue. You should talk to her, don't expect me to take care of things for you. Besides, you practically live here anyway."

Kyle heard Christophe's gentle laughter at that.

"True enough. What about fruit gushers?"

"What about them?"

"They're good, that's what. Hey, are you alright?"

Kyle looked up and turned around in his chair to face Christophe. His best friend was sitting on his bed cross legged, a bag of chips rested on his lap. Even though he was noshing, he had a clear look of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I...I'm fine, why do you ask?"

Christophe shrugged. "You look upset by something. Did something happen in the five minutes I was gone?"

Kyle looked back at his phone before turning back to Christophe to answer him.

"You know how I was texting Stan?"

"Hmm."

"I told him I wasn't going to be contacting him anymore, and that...that- that you were my best friend."

"Damn. How'd he take it?"

"I honestly don't know, I was too freaked out at having told him I just told him goodbye afterwards."

"I don't know why you can't keep in contact with him."

"It's complicated. I don't want to keep him hanging on a string, hoping that things might get better when I know they won't. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to me."

Christophe said nothing, he regarded the bag of chips instead before continuing his consumption of them. Kyle stood up, and looked around his spacious bedroom. His walls were covered in pictures of really cool art he had found online that he had printed out, he had a 60 inch plasma flat screen, and an impressive collection of games and dvds. His carpet was a five inch thick plush red colored carpet that you could fall asleep on. The bed Christophe was on, his bed, was a king sized monstrosity that Kyle assumed could accommodate several people. Although this was just an assumption. The entire right side of the room was one giant glass window from ceiling to floor, giving a fantastic view of Manhattan.

He had a lot of cool things, and right now, he couldn't take any enjoyment out of it because of what he was feeling at the moment.

"Am I heartless?"

"What?"

"Am-am I heartless? I mean what I did..."

"You told him the truth, and you did it to spare him from getting hurt in the future."

"But what if I did it the wrong way? What if I screwed him up forever? That wasn't my intent. I did it wrong, didn't I?"

"What are you talking about?" Christophe asked, giving his best friend a worried look.

"I shouldn't have told Stan something huge like that through text! God, he deserved better than that! How could I do that?"

"You did what you felt you had to. You can't change what happened or take it back. You've been wanting to tell him now for a while now right?"

Kyle nodded his head slowly, coming to terms with it.

"Yes, I have And now that I have, I don't know if I should have, or even if I handled it the right way."

"I don't think there is any right way to handle anything. You did what needed to be done and I think you shouldn't worry about it."

"But I-"

"Look, you're only eighteen. This one moment isn't going to define your entire life or his, so please try to calm down. Chip?" Christophe hands one over to Kyle who takes it, eating it in one bite, making a face afterwards.

"That's disgusting."

"See? What did I tell you?"

Kyle reaches into his jeans pocket, finding a twenty dollar bill.

"Come on, let's go to D'Agostino's and get some fruit gushers. And crème brulee pocky."

Christophe leaves the chips on Kyle's bed, the two of them walk out of Kyle's room, walking to the living room where they left their socks and shoes. They'd go to D'Agostino's, and come back to Kyle's room where they would play Max Payne 3, because Kyle refused to play WOW.

In Colorado, Stan had been flipping through the numbers in his phone, looking for someone to call. None of the people in his phone seemed like the right person to call, he found faults with all of them. That is, until he came to the very last name.

It seemed like comfort, just seeing the name. He thought about it for a second before calling.

While he waited, he stared at his ceiling while he lay on his back on his bed.

"Come on, pick up." he whispered to the ringing.

"Hello?" Her voice was as clear as a bell.

"Hey Wendy."

"Stan? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah. I um, needed to talk to someone."

"Have you been crying?"

"What?"

"You sound like you've been crying."

"Wendy I think I'm breaking down."

"Where are you? Are you home?"

"Yeah. I'm in my room."

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right there."

She hung up, and Stan knew she was coming. But he still kept the phone up to his ear.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Track: Hide and Seek – Imogen Heap

Wendy walked the four blocks to Stan's house. Her dad had asked her if she needed a ride, and she had politely declined. Stan had sounded really upset on the phone, and Wendy felt like she should just hurry up and get there. That, and she knew she could walk there and be at his front door before her dad had time to put on his coat, his shoes, and find his keys that he always forgot where he left them, even though he always left them in the same place, in the bowl of plastic fruit on the table next to the stairs.

As Wendy made her way to Stan's house, she thought about the last time she had actually been inside her ex boyfriend's house. It had been when when they were fourteen, and he had broken up with her over several petty arguments that happened over the course of three months. When she left, and was back in her own bedroom at home crying over what she felt at the time was the worst moment in her young life, she swore she would never enter his house ever again.

In a year's time they had moved on, and kept up a very civil friendship at school. And now she was making her way back to the place she once swore never to step foot in again. She knew why she was going. Because out of everyone he called her. He wanted to speak to her. True, she had no idea what was wrong yet, or if she could even help. But she felt that, if it had been her, and she would want someone to be there with her. And now she was here, standing in front of his house.

His mother's car wasn't in the driveway, but his sister's car was. The lights were on upstairs, one light, in his room. It seemed dark downstairs though. Wendy flexed her gloved fingers, mentally preparing herself for the unpleasant confrontation. She had made peace with the fact that she'd soon be back inside Stan's house for the first time in years. It was his sister she felt apprehensive about since she knew she'd be the one to most likely answer the door, and based on interactions at the grocery store and the mall, Shelly wasn't the most fun person to interact with.

"Okay, you can do this, Wendy." she told herself.

Bracing for the worst, she strode forward with bravado, reaching the door.

She took a moment to collect her nerves, then raised her hand and knocked on the door.

When no one answered after the first minute, she knocked again, this time faster and louder.

She kept it up, refusing to stop until someone answered the door.

Her efforts were rewarded when she heard Shelley Marsh's grumbling as she opened the door.

"Stupid, little, whoever the fuck is knocking on the door..." Wendy heard Shelley saying as the door was being opened.

Shelley stopped her muttering when she saw who was on the front step. She released an aggravated sigh, and looked at Wendy as if she were a bug.

"Oh, it's the little "Cause Girl". Kinda late to be going door to door, huh?" Shelly asked, sneering, her arms crossed across her chest.

Wendy stood up straighter, trying to make herself appear taller.

"I'm here to see Stan." she told Shelly, instantly fretting that her words didn't sound as confident as they had in her head.

"He's not home." Shelly told Wendy.

"Not-his bedroom light is on." Wendy said, pointing one finger up in the direction of his room.

Shelly huffed, and continued to lie to get Wendy to leave.

"Just because his light is on, doesn't mean he's home. I don't see why you'd come over to see that loser anyway. You should just go home."

Wendy shook her head, her long black hair falling near her mouth. She removed the strands, putting them back in place.

"No. I- I- Stan called me, and I need to see him. Please let me in."

Shelly leaned forward, enjoying the fact that she towered over the smaller girl.

"You really think I'd do anything to help him? You must be out of your mind. I hope whatever little pussy-fied problems he has that caused him to call you end up screwing him up even more."

Wendy sighed, and feigned defeat, her head lowered, making her look very humble.

"Hmm,then I guess there's nothing left to do but this." Wendy said.

Shelly looked at her in confusion, until Wendy made her intent perfectly clear.

Wendy lunged forward, putting all her strength into her chest and upper arms, in an attempt to get past Shelly. She managed to wedge one foot in the door, and continued trying to push Shelly completely out of the way so she could get inside.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing, you shit stain?" Shelly asked, now fighting to keep her footing.

"I'm not gonna let you keep me from seeing Stan. Now you can either move, or you can get hurt." Wendy proclaimed.

Shelly made a hissing noise through her teeth while she tried to push Wendy back.

"Like you could ever do anything to hurt me." Shelly smugly told her.

Wendy thought about that. Shelly was taller than her, and certainly bulkier than any girl she had ever seen. And she was getting really close to being pushed out, she could feel her strength weakening.

She'd have to fight dirty in order to win this battle.

Wendy twisted her foot that was inside the house, and kicked her heel back, hitting the thick calf of Shelly's leg.

"OW!" Shelly cried, momentarily stunned.

Wendy took the opportunity to dig her nails into Shelly's face, scratching her cheeks.

"What the fuck?"

"Grand finale time." Wendy told her.

While Shelly protectively covered her face, Wendy stepped on her feet, and shoved her out of the way, enough so that Wendy now had plenty of room to finally get inside the house.

Once she was inside, she saw that all the lights were off, and the only thing turned on was the tv. Wendy wasted no time in running past Shelly, who had gained her second wind and was now thirsty for some Testaburger blood.

"I'm gonna kill you, I'm gonna snap you like a twig!" Shelly roared.

"Shit." Wendy muttered.

Wendy ran as fast as her feet could carry her, her feet made a thunderous stomping noise as she ran as fast as she could, up the stairs, to avoid whatever Shelly had planned to do to her.

She moved even faster when she heard Shelly almost closing in on her. She reached the top of the stairs in under a minute, she felt her heart pounding in her chest from adrenaline. Her calves hurt, and she feared that she might get caught.

She ran like a marathon runner to Stan's closed door. She saw the light under it, a beacon to sanctuary. She reached the door, twisted the knob, and went inside, slamming the door shut in front of Shelly's face.

Wendy saw Stan, lying on his bed, she caught a glimpse of him as he sat up, lowering the phone from his ear. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were wet.

Wendy was distracted by this, and Shelly was able to push on the door, and almost successfully got it open.

Wendy was startled but alerted back to the situation.

She pushed back the door, slamming it shut again. She quickly locked the door, and waited as she rested on it as Shelly began to bang on the door in addition to trying to push it open.

"Open this door! Open it right now!" Shelly yelled.

"No way!" Wendy cried back through the closed door.

They went at this for a while, Shelly was adamant in getting that door open.

But Wendy was determined, and extremely so, in not letting that happen.

Stan watched from his bed, wiping the residue tears off his face.

Shelly did tire eventually, and stopped banging on the door.

"You two are going to have to come out some time, and when you do, you're gonna get it! Stan, you are so dead when mom gets home. You and your little girlfriend."

Wendy looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment.

She heard Shelly stomping back downstairs, presumably back to the television.

When she felt she was safe, she stepped away from the door, and towards Stan.

"Don't unlock the door. If you do, she might kill us." Stan told her.

Wendy smiled at him. "Might?"

Stan smiled back at her, finding a sort of humor in the idea that Shelly would kill them if given the chance.

"You look really pretty." Stan told her.

Wendy looked down at her outfit, at her yellow furry boots, her pink leggings, dark purple pleated skirt, and her yellow long sleeved shirt, over which she wore a lavender thermal sweater vest. She had been wearing it when Stan had called her. She hadn't been thinking about how she looked, but a part of her liked that he thought she was pretty when she had given no thought to her appearance. She hadn't even put makeup on.

"Thank you. You look...well, I've seen you better." she told him.

He gave a small laugh at that.

"Yeah, I know. Was my mom not home? I mean, I know Shelly wouldn't have done what she had if my mom was home."

"uh, no. Her car wasn't in the driveway when I came over. Have you been in your room all night?"

"Just since I got home from school. I kind of like to avoid my mom and sister if I can."

Wendy nodded her head, her heart rate had slowed down, and was back to its normal pace.

"Well, I see why. Now I know why you and your friends would always avoid going through front doors when you'd go to someone else's house." Wendy stated, trying to lighten what she felt was a heavy atmosphere in the room.

Stan had begun to cheerfully laugh, but stopped, and looked down at his jeans, frowning, looking as though he was trying not to cry again.

Wendy took off her boots, and went over to his bed, sitting on it next to him, crossing her legs so her socked feet rested on his comforter.

"Stan, what's wrong?"

Wendy gently touched his arm, and felt his muscles underneath his maroon sweater.

"Sigh. Okay, you're probably going to think I'm some over sensitive fool-"

"I'd never think that," Wendy told him, "Go on."

Stan looked in her eyes, and continued on.

"Mmm. Well, I got a text from Kyle. Several in fact. But what he wanted to tell me was that, he...he..."

Wendy squeezed his arm, and rubbed it afterwards.

"He what? Something bad?"

Stan reached for her hand, and she gave it to him.

"He let me know he had a new best friend now."

Wendy felt her face falling. Now everything made sense.

"He...oh Stan, I'm so sorry." She told him, her voice going soft.

"I suppose I should have seen this coming. But still, it hurts."

"I should think so. You two were the closest of friends, I can't believe he'd tell you that."

"I feel like my insides are all broken." Stan told her, looking at her glumly.

Wendy looked at the door once, before turning her attention back to him.

"Listen, I told my dad I was staying here. Why don't I shut off the light, and I'll sleep over tonight. Keep you company?"

Stan looked at her.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course. We're friends aren't we?"

"Yes. I'd do the same for you, you know."

"I know."

Wendy turned his light off, his bedroom became instantly darker, the only light came from the moon, and the street lights outside.

They climbed into Stan's bed, wrapped in each others arms. As they snuggled innocently, Stan asked Wendy a question.

"Wendy?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it alright if I keep the tv playing? I kinda don't want to hear the depressing thoughts in my head right now."

"Sure thing. Whatever you need." she said.

She reached over, grabbed the remote, turning the tv on. They drifted off to sleep with reruns of I love Lucy playing in the background.

Thanks for reading. Please tell me if you liked this. Wendy will be a major character in this story, and will be presented in a positive light.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Track- Robots in Disguise – Cycle Song

Kyle loved living in Manhattan. He enjoyed the culture that he absorbed, the artistic atmosphere that came with having a neighborhood filled with museums, art galleries, broadway shows, and five star gourmet restaraunts. When he was just twelve years old and had first moved to New York, he had been struck with a feeling that this was someplace he could really be happy. New York was a place where someone like him could thrive.

He always resented the lack of culture in South Park, and for six years he had been living the type of lifestyle he always felt that he should be living. Far from cow farms, enjoying authentic Thai food after seeing The Book of Mormon alone. Ice skating in Rockefeller center. Going to movie premieres with tickets his dad's clients sometimes gave as gifts to say thank you for bailing them out of whatever legal trouble they had. Going to Fashion Week with his mother to do some Ike to anime conventions. Spending lunches with his dad in the upper East side, going over school stuff. And recently, exploring Brooklyn with Christophe, something the braver boy had to convince him to do after telling him that the dangers of Manhattan were nothing to the things Christophe had seen while in Brooklyn doing mercenary work.

After they had returned to Kyle's room with the fruit gushers and pocky, they played Max Payne 3 for three hours. They had been so engrossed in the game that they had forgotten the reason they had left the room in the first place. After they were done playing, they began eating their junk food. Kyle had broken one pocky stick while Christophe was on his second bag of fruit gushers when Ike was suddenly standing in the doorway looking at them.

"Ike what do you want?" Kyle asked.

"I heard pocky crunching. You have pocky don't you?" Ike responded.

Kyle shared a confused expression with Christophe before addressing his brother again.

"Your room is sixty feet away. How the hell did you mange to hear one piece of pocky snapping?"

"Do you have it or don't you?" Ike asked, his tone making it clear that if his brother didn't share, he'd get their mom to make him share.

Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes before producing the yellow box with Japanese text.

"Here." he says, handing the box out to Ike.

The twelve year old smiles and takes the box, pulling a stick out as he sits cross-legged on Kyle's floor with Kyle and Christophe, forming a small circle. Kyle alternates between sharing strawberry flavored fruit gushers with Christophe and crème brulee pocky with Ike.

From their spot on the carpeted floor they could see the view of the Manhattan skyline, in the dark of the evening, the sight of syscrapers lit up was magical. Especially considering that the Broflovski's apartment was eighty stories up.

"So what have you guys got planned for tonight?" Ike asked as he took out two pocky sticks at once.

"Sleeping." came Kyle's prompt answer.

"Lame." was the response Ike gave.

"Hey what if we went to Brooklyn?" Christophe asked.

"At this time of night? No, no way." Kyle told him.

"What? Scared of being in Brooklyn at night? You do know they've got streetlights there too."

Kyle punched Christophe's arm, though it wasn't hard enough to do actual damage.

"Shut up. It's not that. It's just that, it's late, and I really don't feel like going out for a few hours, only to come back home at three in the morning. I'm saving that shit for college." Kyle explained.

"Who says you'd be coming back home? Maybe we'd stay out all night." Christophe suggested.

Kyle scoffed.

"And do what? Hunt down drug dealers and kill them from the rooftops?"

"You don't actually do that, do you?" Ike asked, looking at the two older boys warily.

"Of course not," Kyle says reassuringly, giving his brother a playful hair mussing. "He's the one that does that." Kyle concluded, nodding in Christophe's direction.

Ike turned to gaze at his brother's best friend, who neither denied or confirmed this claim.

"KYLE! IKE! Get down here! You're father and I need to talk to you!"

Sheila Broflovski's voice carried quite far, from the living room downstairs below.

Both of the brothers sighed audibly, moving to stand up.

"What did we do now?" Ike asked to no one irratibly.

Christophe smiled as he stretched on the carpet like a cat. He found it amusing when his best friend's mother wanted to lecture her sons. It made him feel good to know he wasn't the only kid with a parent like that.

"CHRISTOPHE! You too!" Sheila yelled.

Christophe frowned, got up, and joined Kyle and Ike as they went downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Track – Green Day- American Idiot ( I feel like Stan would listen to this song on repeat)

In the morning, Stan and Wendy had a rude awakening. Sharon Marsh had gone into the garage to retrieve the tools necessary to take Stan's door off the hinges. After she had removed the door and had gone in to find her son wrapped in the arms of the Testaburger girl, both of them sleeping soundly, she unceremoniously grabbed the edges of the bed, and flipped it; tossing the teens onto the floor.

Stan and Wendy landed on the floor, in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets. To say they had woken up with a thud would have been an understatement. It had been a loud, and quite painful crash.

"Ugh..." the two of them groaned as they awoke and struggled to untangle themselves from both their limbs and Stan's Bambi sheets.

They stood up, rubbing the spots on their elbows and heads where they had landed. They looked at the now very much open spot where the door had once been.

Sharon Marsh glared at the two of them, behind her grinning maliciously was Shelly, who was clearly reveling in the anger her mother was directing towards her brother and Wendy.

"Um..hi mom." Stan weakly greeted her.

"Stanley Randall Marsh, I am very VERY disappointed in you. I go to a book club meeting, wanting to get some peace in my life, and your sister calls and tells me you had your friend come over, without asking me if that was ok. And not only that, she tells me Wendy attacked her when she tried to keep her out? Is this true?"

Stan and Wendy looked at each other, and turned to face Sharon. Wendy detested the smug face Shelly was making. She wanted to punch her in the neck.

"It's true, but Ms. Marsh, I think you're missing some key facts about what happened." Wendy said.

"Quiet, Wendy!" Sharon yelled.

Wendy looked away from Stan's mother. She knew how things looked, and she just wished she could be given an oppurtunity to explain things.

"Mom, don't yell at her." Stan told his mother.

Sharon scoffed, and crossed her arms.

"Oh, and what should I do, hmm? Ignore the fact that you spent the night locked in your bedroom with a girl?"

Stan frowned, he felt his anger rising at his mother's attempt to make something that was wholly innocent into something it wasn't based on pure speculation.

"It isn't what it looks like. Honestly, she-"

"I-I don't want to hear it," Sharon interrupted, "The bus will be here to pick you up in ten minutes. I suggest both of you get ready, and get the hell out of this house."

Instead of doing what she had said, the two eighteen year olds stared at her.

"NOW!" Sharon yelled.

Stan and Wendy began scrambling around the room, Stan went to get his homework, his textbooks, pens, and notebooks, and stuff them into his backpack. Wendy grabbed her boots, her gloves, and put them on at the speed of a firefighter getting ready to go out. Stan gave her his backpack which she held while he searched for his boots.

Sharon Marsh had left the room to go downstairs to make herself some coffee. Unfortunately, Shelly Marsh was still there.

She made an inward hissing noise, and began taunting them.

"You're lucky. Mom said she was gonna keep you home and make sure you knew never to pull something like this again."

"Shut up, Shelly." Wendy told her.

"I should sue you for bodily harm." Shelly responded.

"It would be a frivolous lawsuit. Didn't the panda teach you anything?" Wendy asked.

"I can't find my shoes." Stan said out loud, rummaging through his dirty clothes.

"Check under your bed." Wendy suggested, shifting the weight of her body onto her other leg.

Stan did, and found a pair of black and grey trainers. These would do.

"I asked mom if I could hit you. She said no, but I could see that she secretly wanted me to." Shelly announced.

Wendy gave her a mean look.

"Shelly, no one cares, shut the fuck up."

When she heard those words Shelly moved forward like she was going to hit her. Wendy flinched, and closed her eyes, preparing for impact. She opened her eyes when she realized that Shelly had been bluffing.

"You and me aren't finished, granola girl. One of these days, I'm gonna kick your scrawny ass for what you did to me." Shelly told her.

Stan had finished tying his laces, and had a brown suede jacket on. He went to stand by Wendy's side. He knew whatever was going on was between them, but still, he felt compelled to say something.

"Shelly?"

She turned her attention from Wendy to her younger brother.

"What, loser turd?"

"You're a fucking bitch who will never amount to anything because all you do is spew bile and watch trash tv. Also you're ugly as sin."

Wendy felt her jaw drop as she watched Stan say those things.

Shelly looked angrier than ever before.

But before she could do or say anything however, a loud honking was heard from outside.

"STAN! WENDY! Get the hell out of this house NOW!" Sharon Marsh yelled.

They kicked it into high gear, running out of Stan's bedroom at top speed, and racing down the stairs. While they were getting out the door, Stan noticed his mother had put his door in the trash pile in the kitchen.

Wendy handed Stan his backpack, he put it on as they ran outside to reach the bus. Wendy didn't mind wearing the clothes she had worn to bed to school, after all, she changed when she went home everyday into a new outfit. What she disliked though, was not having her backpack or any of her school stuff. How was she supposed to take notes? Ask someone for a scrap of paper and a pen like an animal?

"Hey Stan?" she began as they reached the bus.

"Yeah?"

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't, you know, let your friends think that I was at your house in the morning for anything..." she was too embarassed to finish that sentence.

"I understand." he said.

This took her by suprise.

"You do?"

"Sure. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your friends or really anyone for that matter, that I cried last night."

Wendy smiled as they got on the bus.

"Alright. We won't tell anyone anything. Reputations and all that, right?"

Stan didn't say anything , he just moved to the back of the bus to sit next to Kenny.

Wendy sighed. She was still standing in the aisle, and the bus driver decided he had waited long enough to start driving again. Wendy had been looking at her boots when the bus lurched forward violently. She grabbed onto the headrest of one of the seats.

She endured some snickering from some of the people on the bus. She sat in her usual seat with Bebe, who had politely moved her backpack so Wendy could sit next to her.

"So are you gonna tell me?" Bebe asked.

"Tell you what?" Wendy asked back.

"Why were you at Stan's this morning. And why don't you have your backpack this morning? You always have it."

Wendy had to think of something. Something that wouldn't make her or Stan look bad.

"I just came over to have breakfast. He called me, I came over, and I forgot my backpack at home." she explained.

"That doesn't sound like you." Bebe said. "Are you leaving something out?"

Wendy looked over at her best friend, worried that she'd be seen through her lies.

"You're not gonna get back together with him, are you?" Bebe asked.

"Oh. Oh, um, no? I mean, I don't know. We're just friends right now."

Bebe reached into one of the smaller pockets of her backpack, pulling out a tube of lipsmackers.

"Whatever. Here, try this new flavor I got. It's supposed to be fruity pebbles."

Meanwhile at the back of the bus, Stan was rummaging through his backpack.

"What are you looking for dude?" Kenny asked.

"My phone." Stan explained.

He did find it, just as the bus was picking up a few more students.

Stan called his dad's number. It rang a few times, before Randy Marsh finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey dad, it's Stan."

"Stan?" he sounded hungover, well that, or really stupid.

"Stan, your son, remember?"

"Oh, oh! Yeah, sorry kiddo, I was on a MAJOR bender last night!"

Stan rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his father's laughter.

"Aren't you in school right now?" Randy asked.

"I will be soon, I just-Dad, I need to live with you. Mom and Shelly are awful. Is there any way at all that I can-"

"Sure you can stay with me! I've been waiting for you to want to move in since the third divorce!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Do you need to get anything from your mom's or?"

"No! No, no, no. I've got what I need with me. Can you pick me up from school though?"

"No problem. Three, right?"

"Three thirty." Stan corrected.

"Gotcha. See you at three-thirty."

"Bye dad." Stan said, hanging up the phone.

At school, Wendy's parents had dropped off her backpack and some lunch money for her in the office.

They had briefly questioned her about what she had done last night, but let her off when she explained what had happened. Wendy had never once lied to her parents, and as a result they believed her when she told them the truth.

Stan kept his emotions in check during the day, and the only way he kept himself from breaking down by was not thinking about Kyle.

Meanwhile in Brooklyn in an abandoned warehouse, two teens were busy breaking things.

Kyle had a silver baseball bat, and was swinging it at poles, glass bottles, and some rotting wood.

Christophe watched him from his spot in the corner next to a bunch of old milk crates.

"I can;t believe them. Do you believe them? Thinking I'd be okay with this?" Kyle asked as he smashed another bottle.

"I think they thought you'd go along with it regardless of how you felt about it." Christophe responded.

"Well they were wrong." Kyle said, swinging the bat, hitting a trash can, debris flying everywhere.

"Feel better?" Christophe asked.

"No. I'm still pissed about them making that decision without even consulting me or my brother."

"I know something that might make you feel better." Christophe said.

"What? Oh no, not that." Kyle said after he realized what his best friend meant.

"Come on, it'll make you feel better."

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Christophe got up, picked up his shovel, and went into another room. In the center of the room was a man tied to a chair. Christophe shut the door,but still Kyle could hear as the shovel made contact with the man's skull over and over again. He hated seeing the shovel and Christophe covered in blood. Murder was so messy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Track – Papa Roach – Getting Away With Murder

Author's Note: It smells like Beef Ramen flavor packets where I'm at right now. Also, I love flip flops and Orange Fanta, I drank a ton of it while writing this chapter. Read on, and enjoy.

Kyle helped Christophe carry the bludgeoned corpse down to the furnace located in the basement of the abandoned warehouse they were in. Christophe had found an oriental rug in what must have been someone's office at one point in the past. He rolled the corpse into the carpet, the way you would roll banana slices into a crepe.

He picked up the head end while Kyle picked up the end with the man's feet poking out of the rug. The man Christophe had killed was middle aged, and heavier than either of the two teenagers. It was a struggle for them to not only lift up the body wrapped up in a rug, but to carry it down the fourteen flights of stairs. That they had to do this in almost complete darkness made their job that much harder.

Kyle could swear that the man was trickling blood out from his skull. Or to be more precise, what was left of his skull. The smell was atrocious. They didn't have to worry about anyone finding them, this building was slated for demolition, but that didn't mean that Christophe was excused from getting rid of his handiwork.

"What did this guy do anyway?" Kyle asked, lifting his end onto his right shoulder.

"He denied a man insurance for his sick wife. Said that she was a liability. The man did manage to get his wife the insurance for the medicine she needed, but, still, he felt that this man deserved to die for denying him something that would have helped his wife a long time ago." Christophe answered.

They reached the fourth stairwell. Christophe had lots of buildings like this in the seedier parts of Brooklyn. He didn't own them, he used them as a sort of base of operations where he conducted his murders. When Kyle realized what his best friend did, and that he actually got paid for it, he was surprised at how okay he was with the whole situation.

Christophe was a fun person to hang out with, and he was one of the more rational persons Kyle had ever met. The fact that he possessed a blue and orange morality was irrelevant. His arguments for why he did the things he did were always well thought out and intelligent. Besides, he had a rule: No killing innocents, which relieved Kyle. It lowered the guilt he felt when Christophe killed someone because they were always someone who deserved what they got in the end.

"Don't you think that's a petty reason for murder?" Kyle asked as they reached the second stairwell."

"Well it's not just that, I did a background check, this guy was embezzling and denying insurance claims to clients just because he didn't want to help them. He was a total scumbag who let hundreds die by not allowing them access to the insurance they rightly deserved."

"Oh. Well then yeah, killing him's alright then." Kyle said.

They struggled a bit before Christophe managed to kick open the door to the basement where the furnace. Kyle was about to move forward when Christophe put up a hand, signaling him to stop.

"What?"

Christophe let out an aggravated sigh.

"It's been so long since I've been here, I forgot there's another staircase before you reach the actual basement floor."

Kyle dropped his end of the body, letting it crash to the floor. He walked over to the door, and looked down at a darkened stairwell.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Kyle said.

Christophe shook his head and walked back to the body.

"Fuck it." he said.

Kyle watched as Christophe picked the body up, half holding it up, half dragging it, until it was in front of the doorway. He lifted the body so that it was upright, then he tossed it down the final staircase. He and Kyle watched as the body fell down the stairs, until it reached the bottom.

Christophe and Kyle held onto the railing as they made their way down. This was the last man Christophe would murder in Brooklyn, and the last time Kyle would help him get rid of a body. They wouldn't be able to do this again come tomorrow. He and Kyle had been busy the past two nights, killing off people Christophe had left in abandoned buildings and getting rid of their bodies. Christophe always got paid by his customers who wanted someone dead, and he had collected on all payments owed. They just needed to get rid of this one body, and then they'd be done.

They reached the floor of the basement, Christophe went to work setting up the fire in the, inexplicably still working furnace. Kyle kicked the body that was still wrapped up in the rug.

"He smells worse than that garbage truck that went past us when we walked over here." Kyle observed.

"I'm not surprised," Christophe replied, "I kept him locked up for two days with nothing but water to keep him from getting dehydrated."

Kyle helped Christophe toss the body, rug and all, into the fire. Christophe slammed the door to the furnace shut. While the body burned, Christophe and Kyle walked back up the stairs, they found the door to the warehouse on the first floor, and walked out.

Kyle looked up at the sky which was covered up by orange street lights and really, really tall buildings. It was impossible to tell what time of the early day it was. They had been out since eleven pm yesterday.

"What time is it?" Kyle asked.

Christophe took out his phone.

"Four am." He told him.

Kyle yawned. They had a way to go before they would be back in Manhattan. Kyle watched Christophe's shovel which the Frenchman had in a special sling across his back. In the dark of the city the blood was well-hidden. He was sure that Christophe's face, hair, and hands were covered in blood. He didn't know how he dealt with getting blood all over his clothes.

When they finally reached Kyle's apartment, they could see that the sun was getting ready to rise. They rode the elevator up to the floor where the Sverdlovsk home was located. Everyone in the apartment was still asleep, and except for Ike who knew better, thought that Christophe and Kyle were already inside and asleep too. They snick in, locking the door behind them quietly.

They apartment seemed even bigger now that a lot of the furniture had been sent out. They walked up the stairs to Kyle's room. Once they were inside, they kicked off their shoes. Kyle crawled into his bed, while Christophe took off his shovel, putting it up in the closet. Christophe slept at the foot of Kyle's bed, curling up into himself like a cat. He pulled some of the blanket over himself, covering his legs. The boys slept for, maybe an hour, maybe less before Gerald Sverdlovsk was knocking on the door.

"Come on boys! Wake up! We're leaving today!"

Kyle grumbled before getting up. He pushed at Christophe.

"Hey. Wake up. We need to get ready to go."

Christophe made a sort of hissing noise to demonstrate his dislike of the idea.

"Are you serious? I am dead tired, there's no way I can get up. Let me sleep."

Kyle shook his head.

"Sorry. Come on, we'll sleep on the plane."

Meanwhile, in Colorado...

"Hey uh, sorry about the mess Stan, I had a party last night, and well, I haven't gotten around to cleaning yet."

"It's cool. So can I just drop my backpack off wherever?"

"Sure. Hey, you want a beer?"

"Dad, I'm eighteen. And yes, thank you."

Randy Marsh handed his son a cold bottle of Sawtooth Ale. Stan twisted off the cap and took a swig as he dropped his backpack onto the couch. His dad's apartment wasn't as roomy as his mother's house, but it was still big enough to host parties, which Randy loved to do.

Stan took the time to notice that his dad had redecorated, and had, in addition to the coffee table with its map of Middle Earth painted onto to the top, he had put up a poster of a Tyrannosaurus Rex superimposed onto a Canadian Flag. He wanted to ask what it meant, but decided he really didn't want to know.

Stan slumped against the couch, drinking his beer. Since his dad lived in a one bedroom and had eight months left on his lease, it would be a while before Stan had his own bedroom. He didn't mind sleeping on the couch though. It was L-shaped, and extremely comfortable.

Plus he had a plasma tv and his dad's Xbox 360 and collection of games to occupy himself with when he couldn't sleep. Stan checked his phone. Since he hadn't come home that day his mother had sent over fifty messages. Twenty-three voice mails, and twenty-seven angry, threatening texts. She had even called her ex husband, that was something Stan thought would never happen. It had been really awkward to hear her yelling at Randy while they were in his car on the way to the apartment complex.

Stan heard her demanding that Randy bring Stan back home, but all his dad did after she was done demanding he take Stan home was to just hang up on her, calling her a very insulting name, dismissing her demands.

Randy left at around five pm to hang with his friends at the bar. Stan was left alone to do his homework. His dad hadn't gone grocery shopping in a while, and the only thing in the fridge were corn dogs and nachos and more beer. And Stan had already had one today, which was his personal limit.

An hour after he had finished his homework he was busy killing zombie clowns on one of his dad's games. When his phone alerted him to the fact that he had a new text, he ignored it. Every time someone texted him, it just turned out to be bad.

But when his phone started ringing, he picked it up out of sheer frustration at the interruption into his game. He put the game on pause, just at the moment his character was about to get killed.

"Hello?"

"Hey Stan."

"Oh...hey Wendy."

Stan stood up and began pacing the living room. He was happy she had called.

"Are you doing anything right now?" she asked.

Stan looked at his finished homework, his empty beer, and his game. If he wasn't him, he'd call himself pathetic.

"...No. I'm not doing anything. Why?"

"Well, I was talking to Bebe on Livejournal, and she heard from Millie, who heard from Esther, who heard from Kevin, who heard from Clyde that Craig is having a house party tonight since his parents are out of town. I know you're at your dad's house because well, that's what Google+ says. My dad let me borrow his car since he's staying in, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? To the party?"

Stan threw his bottle away.

"Like a date?" he asked.

"No. Like, friends. You've been having a bad time lately right? I think maybe some social interaction might be good for you."

"...Yeah, but...I dunno, Craig? I hate that guy."

"Well from what I've gathered he invited everyone in our grade, so chances are you won't even have to see him or talk to him."

Stan looked into the fridge one more time, although why he does this he can't even tell.

"So what do you think?" Wendy asked.

"Huh?" Stan replied, shutting the refrigerator door.

"Do you wanna go to the party with me?"

"Sure."

"Great! I'll be at your dad's apartment in forty minutes. It's the one next to the woods, number 4670, right?"

"Yeah. Forty minutes, huh?"

"Yup. I'll call you when I'm outside, k?"

"Cool."

After he had hung up, Stan looked at the Darth Vader clock on the wall next to the front door. He supposed he could get ready, but he really didn't have any other clothes. Well, except for the black t-shirt he was wearing under his sweater. He took off said sweater, and decided instead of trying to look good, which he didn't really feel like doing, to just save his progress in the game, put his homework into his back pack, and put his phone, charger, and apartment keys into his jean pockets, and just sat down on the couch watching Adventure Time reruns until the time came when Wendy would call him in half an hour from now.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Track – I don't feel like dancing – Scissor Sisters

During a commercial for a Ben 10 alien play set, Stan's phone started ringing. He hit the mute button for the tv before answering.

"Yes?"

"Hey. I'm outside."

Stan turned off the tv and walked to the door.

"Cool. Be right out."

Stan hung up, put his phone in back in his pocket, and turned off the lights in his dad's apartment, then left, locking up with the apartment key his dad had given him.

The parking lot for Randy Marsh's apartment was set up so that once you stepped outside the door, you had to walk on this sidewalk up ahead until you reached the parking lot itself. Stan walked around the parking lot, searching. He wasn't sure what type of car Wendy's dad drove, and there were a lot of cars around. He heard a honking noise, coming from the Southwest end.

He looked over and saw a green four door car with several slender arms waving to him. He jogged over since Wendy had parked a ways away. When he got there, he saw that Wendy had opened the passenger side door for him. After he was in, she peeled out of the apartment complex. Stan quickly buckled up, fearing that he might be tossed around like a salad otherwise.

"Say hello to our token male for the evening, girls." Wendy said, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Hi, Stan!" came the voice of the cheery legion in the backseats.

Stan looked behind him to see Bebe, Sally, and Lola in the back, Lola smiled and waved at him, Sally grinned a cheshire cat grin, and Bebe waved at him. He wasn't surprised that Wendy would pick her friends up, she was green, and did her part to help lower carbon emissions.

Stan awkwardly waved at the trio, not sure how to properly greet them.

"Hello." he said.

Stan noticed that while on the way to Craig's house, Wendy was a more competent driver than he was, and that while the most you could fault her for was a tendency to speed, she kept her eyes on the road and didn't let anything distract her.

Stan relaxed, and occupied himself by listening to the girls in the back. It had been a long time since he'd hung out with anyone, and even longer since he'd gone to someone's house for a party. It was nice to hear someone else's voice for once, and hearing them talk about how they were taking their classes, and how well or how awful they were doing, made him feel better about having to struggle to raise his grades, because he knew he wasn't the only one.

Stan checked Wendy out. She looked a lot different from when he had seen her earlier at school. She had taken the time to curl the ends of her hair, and she had put a lilac lace headband in her hair. She was wearing a peach long sleeved blouse decorated with strands of pearls and cameo brooches, and jeans with roses printed on them. Her outfit wasn't one he had ever seen before, but he thought she looked cute.

Wendy had gotten them there in no time; she parked next to Kenny's old beat up ford pick up and Esther's Volkswagon Beetle. The trio got out as soon as the car had stopped. Stan stopped to look at Craig's house, all the lights were on, and he could hear the music from across the street. He thought it was a little ridiculous, but maybe this was what all house parties were like.

He felt something touching his hand. He jerked in surprise, but relaxed when he realized it was just Wendy.

"Are you nervous?"she asked him.

He shook his head.

"No. Not in the least bit."

They got out of the car, Wendy locking up as Stan walked around to where she was. Stan looked at the loud and bright house full of people he went to school with, but hadn't really talked to in weeks. He was instantaneously filled with a sense of dread. Everything he had been avoiding, ws right in front of him. He had lied before, he was nervous. He was just too scared to admit it.

Wendy looked at Stan, wondering why he wasn't moving when Bebe, Lola, and Sally were already inside. Under the light of the street lamps, she could see the apprehension in his face. She wasn't sure what was wrong, and she didn't feel like prying. But she thought then, if it were me, I'd want someone to support me.

Without a second thought she took her hand in his. He looked down at their now clasped hands, then back at her.

"Don't worry. I'll be right there with you. It's ok, if you feel a bit out of place. I always feel that way. But it'll be alright. If you start feeling down, you can squeeze my hand if you want."

Stan had this blank look on his face while she was talking. When she was done, he gave her a smile.

"Thank you Wendy. That means a lot right now."

She gave him a smile in return, and began leading him across the street up to the party. Just as they were nearing the door, he squeezed her hand once, just to test it out. It took all of a split second for Wendy to squeeze back reassuringly.

Inside, it was crowded with kids he had seen in some of his classes, and a few he'd seen in the halls. They all seemed to know each other really well, and Stan felt that he must've missed out on a lot.

"Do you like this song?" Wendy asked him.

Stan listened to the song playing, it seemed to exist above the heads of everyone else, layering them with its melody.

"It's cool," he replied, "Who's it by?"

"Scissor Sisters."

Wendy and Stan turned in the direction the voice had come from.

Standing across from them was Craig.

Stan thought that based on Craig's outfit, maybe there was a theme of some sort he had missed.

As Craig approached them, Stan squeezed Wendy's hand, and like before, she squeezed back.

X.X.X

In their seats on the plane, Gerald, Sheila, and Ike had fallen asleep. The only ones awake were the pilot, a few flight attendands, and Kyle and Christophe.

The two had been talking the entire flight, Christophe moreso than Kyle.

He'd been asking Kyle all sorts of questions about the place they were going.

"Dude, you lived there too, remember?" Kyle said.

"Only for a few months. You grew up there." Christophe countered.

Kyle rolled his head briefly.

"Sigh. Yeah."

"Does it really snow there as much as I've heard it does?" Christophe asked.

"I think people tend to overexaggerate the weather conditons. They have all four seasons." Kyle answered.

"Hmm."

"Hey, do you mind if we don't talk for a while?" Kyle asked.

"No." Christophe said.

After a few seconds, Kyle spoke again.

"You think you're gonna miss it?"

"Miss what, your talking?" Christophe retorted.

Kyle stuck his tongue out before answering Christophe.

"No, Dimitri. New York."

Christophe thought about it.

"Yes. I've lived there for a long time, of course I'll miss it."

Kyle closed his eyes, getting ready to sleep.

"Me too." he said before drifting off.

They had taken their flight late at night, after spending one last day in Manhattan together; and they were all worn down. Christophe himself was getting sleepy. Before falling asleep, he heard the pilot make this announcement.

"Attention passengers, in one hour from now, we'll be beginning our descent into Colorado."

Kyle still couldn't believe his parents had made the decision to return without taking either his or Ike's thoughts or feelings into consideration.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Track – The Kills – Future Starts Slow

Kyle and the rest of his family and Christophe awoke when their plane had landed. They were all exhausted; the feeling of jet lag was one they despised. They gathered their things from the baggage carousel; and after going through security they walked around the airport until they found the place where their drivers were waiting for them.

Down by the front doors that exited out to the parking lot were two uniformed men holding up signs that had the family name written on them.

"Gerald, it was such a good idea to hire chauffeurs. The way I'm feeling, I don't think I could manage driving when I'm this tired." Sheila said to her husband as they walked towards the drivers.

"I don't think I could either, dear. I thought it might be best, at least for now, since we haven't been here in years that we avoid driving until we're familiar with the layout of the town again." Gerald said.

"Is this the town you grew up in?" Christophe asked Kyle, the two of them were walking behind Kyle's parents, with Ike trailing behind, reading volume four of Black Lagoon.

"Not even," Kyle answered, "We're in Denver. We've got a way to go before we reach the one trick town I grew up in."

"Did you ever spend time here?" Christophe asked.

"Dude, I'm tired, I can barely remember what I ate before getting on the plane." Kyle said.

"Souvlaki." Ike answered.

Without stopping Christophe and Kyle turned back to look at Ike who had his nose stuck in his manga. When he felt their eyes on him, he looked up at them.

"I remember because I had the same thing, and I can still taste it." he explained.

Kyle and Christophe turned back to look ahead of them, and followed the Broflovski parents towards the drivers.

"Broflovski." Gerald simply stated, addressing both men.

The chauffeurs lowered their signs down.

Sheila turned around to face the three boys while Gerald and the chauffeurs took the luggage out to the limos.

"Alright, boys, we've had to hire two limos because, well, we still had a lot of luggage even though we had already packed the furniture up. What with the photos, and dishes, and the massive amounts of manga, IKE." she said the last word a bit accusingly, but not meanly.

In response Ike hid behind his brother.

"So anyway, boys, Gerald, Ike, and I will be in one limo, and Kyle, you and Christophe can ride in the other limo."

"Why can't I ride in Kyle and Christophe's limo?" Ike whined, stepping out from where he had previously been hiding behind his brother.

"Ike, sweetie, don't you think Kyle wants to be alone with his best friend?" Sheila asked, petting her son's hair.

"Kyle doesn't mind if I ride in the same car as him! Right Kyle?"

Ike turned around and grabbed onto Kyle's jacket. Kyle looked down, his little brother was trying to pull that big eyed, pleading deal when he wanted Kyle to be on his side, and to agree with whatever it was he said. It was embarrassing.

Oh lord, he's even pulling out the quivering bottom lip. Kyle thought.

"I don't mind if Ike rides with us mom. Christophe doesn't mind either, right Christophe?"

Kyle turned to look at Christophe to confirm this. His best friend was occupied, staring at a screen showing the flight schedule. When he heard his name he turned back around. It was obvious he hadn't been paying attention.

"Hmm?" he asked.

Kyle shook his head.

"We're riding in a limo, you don't mind if Ike rides in ours, do you?"

"Non. But to be honest, I stopped caring after you said limo." Christophe said.

Kyle sighed, and faced his mother.

"It's okay if he rides with us." he said to her.

Sheila pursed her lips, seemingly considering this.

"Fine. Ike, I want you to behave though." their mother instructed.

Ike smiled and returned to his manga.

Gerald came back after helping the two drivers with their luggage.

"Everything's ready." he said.

"Good," Sheila responded, "Come along, boys." she said to the three young boys in her care.

Gerald and Sheila went into their limo first, Kyle watched as the car drove off.

Kyle got into the second limo and saw that it was filled with his brother's manga collection and anime dvds, with a few of his own books and video games thrown in for good measure. There was plenty of room for the three of them to stretch out; and Kyle thought this was convenient. After he got in, Christophe and Ike came into the car after him. Their chauffeur closed the door for them before getting behind the driver's wheel. As he drove them away from the airport, Ike pressed a button on the side of the door that raised the partition window separating them from the driver; the black screen made it impossible for the driver to see or hear them. Kyle wondered just what his brother was up to.

"Alright Christophe, spill. I wanna know, are you really a killer?" Ike asked as he faced Christophe who for his part looked very unconcerned.

"Ike, can't this wait until we get to the new place?" Kyle asked him.

"No. Ever since you said what you said in your room I've been curious to know more. Is it true?"

"Ike, you're too young to know about this stuff." Kyle admonished.

"Aw come on! You were exposed to violence at a young age!" Ike whined, placing his volume four of Black Lagoon on his lap.

"That was different, I didn't have anyone to shield me from that stuff like you do. Reading about violence or seeing it in your animes isn't the same as being exposed to it in the real world. The last thing I need is for you to see some things that might screw you up later in life, to the point where you accept having a mercenary as a best friend." Kyle explained.

"Hey, cool! There's a mini fridge in here with root beer!" Christophe exclaimed, completely uninterested in the brothers' conversation happening in front of him, he only cared about the ice cold bottled root beer he was currently consuming.

"I don't see any reason why I can't know the truth." Ike said to Kyle.

"Because you're only twelve, and it'd be dangerous if you got involved, if you knew anything." Kyle answered.

"Ah, so you admit there is something to know." Ike inferred.

"No." Kyle answered bluntly.

Ike responded by pouting and slouching in his seat.

Christophe had finished his root beer, and was now reaching in the mini fridge for another one. When he was back in his seat, Kyle spoke to Ike again, the limo crept along the road as they talked.

"Ike, I know you're a smart kid, and you could probably handle whatever I told you. But neither Christophe or I can tell you the truth or admit to what he does. We can joke, yes, but never can we confirm it as the truth to you. Even though you might know better. The fact is Christophe has many dangerous enemies who would kill to get information about him and his works. And if they found out you knew anything and could confirm it as the truth instead of speculation, then you'd be in more danger than you've ever been in your entire life."

Ike listened to his brother's words, going over them.

"So, by not telling me, you're actually protecting me."

"Yes, you've got it." Kyle told him.

"But wouldn't you be putting our entire family at risk by having a mercenary living with us?" Ike countered.

"Not as much as you'd think. We're a lot safer having Christophe here with us, than not having him with us." Kyle said.

Ike thought about this, and was for the time willing to drop the subject. He found his place in his manga again, and began reading once more.

Christophe held his drink in one hand, feeling that if he drank too much, he might get sick. He looked out the window, at the sky, covered in dark purple clouds all over, reaching far and wide. It was impossible for him to distinguish if it was day or night because those dark hued violet clouds covered the entire sky, darkening everything. Although that could just as easily have been the darkened windows. The fact that there were no buildings lit up like Christmas trees around to give him a hint didn't help.

The driver was taking them into Kyle's hometown, Christophe knew that. He could see from the window that they were passing lots of small towns, and the road they were on seemed like one that would lead them farther and farther away from civilization.

"How long until we reach your hometown?" Christophe asked Kyle.

"Let's see...about two hours? Give or take?" Kyle answered, although he wasn't exactly sure.

"Tell me again why your parents chose to return." Christophe asked.

"Ugh, it was something about feeling homesick, of feeling tired of New York and the people who lived there, of wanting to return to the open air and different climate of Colorado, and a whole other bunch of reasons they picked to essentially ruin my life." Kyle said.

"Hey don't forget, it's ruining my life too!" Ike piped up.

"And to ruin Ike's life." Kyle added.

"Seriously, I was in a city where I could freely roam libraries and book stores, some of them four stories tall to pick and choose manga novels from, and what do mom and dad do? Decide it'd be a good idea to move us across the country again to a small town that will more than likely have on small book store that specializes in state history or collecting Farmer's Almanacs." Ike grumbled bitterly.

Kyle thought that his little brother had more of a reason to be upset than him. Ike had trouble making friends when he was younger, and when they moved to Manhattan he had found something he enjoyed, a thing he could share with others as a common interest. For six years Ike had been going to conventions, making friends with other kids who liked the same things he did. Kyle considered it a dick move on his parents to take that away from him.

"Ike, if that turns out to be the case, I will personally drive you back to Denver just so you can get as many books and dvds as you want." Kyle told Ike.

His little brother perked up at that.

"You mean it?"

"Sure."

"Well...thank you." Ike told him.

It took two hours and forty minutes with traffic for them to finally reach the small town of South Park. Christophe didn't think it was anything special, and saw no reason why the Broflovski parents would choose to return here. The small town seemed condensed to him, sort of compact and insignificant.

The most prominent feature of this place wasn't even the town itself. For Christophe, it was those mountains, looming over everything in the distance. The last time he had seen mountains, he had been eleven and his mother had insisted he spend the summer with his father at his place in Austria. At the time he was a bit preoccupied with getting shot at by Russian jewel thieves his father had pissed off by stealing from them, so he didn't really have an opportunity to enjoy those mountains.

But these seemed different, greener, and bigger. Separating the town from the mountains were these massive evergreen trees. Christophe had once seen trees like these in central park. Homeless people used them as toilets. He hoped that wasn't the case here.

The driver kept on driving past the town, leading the limo further into the outskirts of the town where the forests lay.

Kyle hadn't asked his parents if they were moving back into their old house, he had been too mad at them to ask for details. He had assumed that would be the case, but now that their driver was driving them into the woods, he thought, maybe not.

Their chauffeur drove them up a newly paved road, the road wound up higher and higher up into the deeper parts of the forest.

"Man, think of all the places you could bury a body in this place." Christophe commented.

"I knew it!" Ike exclaimed.

"That proves nothing, and you can't confirm it." Kyle said to Ike, pointing a finger at him.

The car stopped, and the three boys looked up. After a moment they were moving again. They looked behind them, at a black iron gate thirty feet high and fifty feet wide, closing. The gate was supported on either side by brick pillars which the gates were attached to.

Kyle turned around and looked at the screen separating them from their driver. Where was he talking them? And where exactly was the new house?

The roads got a bit wider further on, and they ended up parked after a few minutes more of driving. The boys heard their chauffeur get out and walk around to their door. After he opened it, the three of them climbed out. They found themselves standing in front of a massive three story building that could only be called a modern day log cabin. There was a staircase made of wood that led up to the front porch that went around the front of the house.

"Oh, my God." Kyle said as he took in the new house.

It looked brand new, indeed, as if it had been built just a few months ago. The trees surrounded the back, and sides of the house. Kyle thought log cabin was a better term for it. The area they were in was a lot more open, but still, evergreen trees were everywhere.

Sheila and Gerald were helping the drivers with putting the rest of their things inside. When Gerald noticed Kyle, Ike, and Christophe just staring, he addressed them.

"Well boys, what do you think of the new place?"

"Ugh." Kyle and Ike said in unison to show their disinterest.

Christophe said nothing, he was content with his root beer.

"Oh come on, you two. This is a great home!" Gerald proclaimed.

"We haven't even stepped inside it yet." Ike pointed out.

"Look Kyle, we even had a full walled window installed for you!" Gerald said, pointing to the side of the house.

"Great." Kyle said, his voice flat with a lack of enthusiasm.

Hmm, a view of the Manhattan skyline, or a bunch of trees and nothing else. Yeah, I know which view I'd rather have. Kyle thought.

After they had helped put everything away and the drivers had taken the limos back, everyone went inside. Kyle found the place to be bigger on the inside. Everything was exactly like it was back at the apartment in New York; the difference was they no longer had any neighbors, or an elevator. The interior was wood, all real wood, dark, shiny, hard, wood.

They had brought all the furniture, all the clothes, even the cars from New York. It was all a huge replication, all except for the sky scraper. They were all still feeling the jet lag, so after they had all found their respective bedrooms, they all retired to get some much needed rest.

Kyle had to admit to himself that he was happy that his parents had included his bed in the move. His bed was the most comfortable one he had ever owned, and the fact that it was comfier than a marshmallow cloud made it easy to fall asleep.

But something plagued him as he first attempted to lie down. It was the simple fact that he was back in the place he hadn't been in for over six years. It was that after breaking off his best friend-ship with Stan, he was now back in town, and eventually he'd have to be in the same area as him, whether in school, or just out in the town. And Kyle was completely nervous over when that moment would happen. He didn't know what would happen when he and Stan would see each other, face to face, for the first time in six years. This made it impossible for Kyle to reach sleep until tense hours of tossing and turning exhausted him into an oblivion.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Track – Robots in Disguise – DJ's Got A Gun

In Craig's house, the stupid and wild teenagers of South Park were busy drinking, knocking things over, dancing, and yelling things like "Woo!" for no other reason than to do so because it was the weekend, and they wanted to blow off steam. The living room, kitchen, and the stairs leading up to the second floor of the house were completely full of teens partying the night away. Alcohol and pixie sticks were everywhere. The floor pulsated with the energy inside the house. Right now, in the middle of the floor where Wendy stood with Stan at her side, they watched as Craig approached them.

Craig stood in front of them, at six feet tall, he towered over both of them. Wendy and Stan felt like they were being judged under Craig's gaze.

"Stan." Craig said coldly, greeting him.

"Craig." Stan greeted him in turn, nodding slightly.

"Wendy." Craig turned his head slightly so he was facing her.

Wendy nodded her head casually.

"Craig." She greeted him, feeling a tightness in her chest, a nervousness she couldn't contain.

Craig had a penchant for being intimidating, and Wendy could feel that. She wondered if Stan could feel it too. He'd stopped squeezing her hand.

Craig faced them both as he addressed them.

"Well, word certainly spreads fast. I tell a few people about my party, and even hermits like Stan Marsh come out of their caves to attend this event. And you even managed to get a date. How cute."

Stan could hear the sarcastic venom in Craig's words. This was why he hated him. Craig Tucker was the Queen Bitch. He had been since they were ten.

"I'm not a hermit." Stan told him.

"And I'm not his date," Wendy interjected, "We're just friends."

"You always hold your friends hands and stand so close?" Craig asked her.

Wendy examined the proximity of where she was in relation to Stan and found that she was indeed standing a bit close. She hadn't realized, so she stepped back from him a bit. But she wouldn't let go of his hand.

"Well, Stan, I wasn't expecting you to be here. What made you decide to come out and socialize?" Craig asked him.

Stan shrugged his shoulders.

"I just needed to get out." He answered him.

"Right. Well, I see you made zero effort in your wardrobe. You look boring." Craig told Stan.

Stan looked down at his jeans and black t-shirt. He thought he looked okay. This was how he always dressed. He didn't think dressing casual was bad.

Stan looked Craig in the eyes as he responded.

"I thought you were all about boring, Craig."

"I'm about my boring personality. Just because I have a boring personality doesn't mean I approve of boring clothes. Boring personality? Yes. Boring clothes? No."

Stan took a moment to look at Craig's outfit again. He was wearing a short sleeved neon blue t-shirt that was decorated with two thick black horizontal stripes located near his rib cage. There was a thin stripe of blue in between the two larger black stripes. He had a few candy necklaces around his neck. His pants were black, with a pinstripe of neon blue running vertically up the sides. The thin stripes looked like they would glow in the dark. Stan couldn't say that Craig's outfit wasn't interesting. It was his color theme, mixed with electro and modern. It was so very much what he expected someone like Craig Tucker would wear. It was subtle, but it made a statement. Stan felt that his clothes were indeed plainer compared to Craig's. But this wasn't a competition. And why should he care? Why did he?

Craig overlooked the teens in house dancing to the Ting Tings That's not my name. There was a huge amount of energy in the house. He turned his attention back on Stan.

"Well enjoy yourselves. There's pixie sticks and drinks everywhere. I think a few of your friends showed up. Don't talk to me again for the rest of the party." Craig told him before he turned his back and walked away towards the kitchen.

Stan let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He felt a rush of relief now that Craig was gone. The guy didn't have to say much, his attitude and presence made him the most intimidating fucker in their school. He made everyone uncomfortable.

"Wow. That was uncomfortable." Stan said.

He turned to look at Wendy who was sucking on a purple pixie stick with her free hand.

"Where did you get that? I didn't feel you let go of my hand." Stan asked her.

She lowered the tube from her mouth, and licked the remains left around her lips.

"Lola gave me one while you and Craig were talking. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What happened?"

"Nothing important. Man, I really hate that guy. He's a real bitch."

Wendy shook her head.

"Yeah, I know. Ever since he came out as, well, what he is, he's been really insufferable."

Stan nodded his head in agreement.

"There's just no living with that guy. Can I try that?" He asked, referring to the pixie stick.

"Sure, here." Wendy gave him the candy.

Stan tasted the artificial grape flavored powdered mix, it wasn't bad, in fact it was a bit tart. Stan liked the taste. He handed it back to Wendy.

"Thanks." He told her.

"No problem. So what do you wanna do? Do you wanna dance?"

From the look on his face,Wendy could see that wasn't something Stan was interested in doing.

"Okay, no. Um, wanna see what's going on in the kitchen?"

"Sure. Man, I feel out of place, like I don't belong here."

"Well Stan, everyone feels that way from time to time. You just gotta interact with people more, try to socialize, see if that helps."

"Hmm," Stan murmured, taking in her advice.

As they walked towards the kitchen, he saw some guy leaning against the wall who looked like someone in his history class.

"Hi." Stan said to the guy, waving hello.

The guy in question looked at him with a confused look on his face. He clearly had no idea who Stan was or why he was even talking to him. Stan felt incredibly awkward.

"Okay, forget trying to socialize, it's too hard." Stan confirmed.

Wendy frowned. She hoped that getting Stan out around other people might make him feel better. She couldn't help but think that maybe his depression had something to do with the Kyle thing. If that was it, maybe he just needed to see that there were other people out in the world, besides Kyle that he could be friends with.

A lot of people were just standing around talking in small groups. A few of them smiled at Wendy. Everyone knew her, she was in a lot of extra curricular programs so she was familiar with a lot of the people here.

The song playing was some disco hit, You can ring my bell. Craig's taste in music ranged from electro, pop, nu rave, techno, and disco. A few people could be seen dancing along to it, some even attempted to sing along.

Stan and Wendy walked into the kitchen to see a crowd gathered around Annie Faulk and Jennie Simon who were focusing on seven cups of beer on the table, on ping pong ball floated in the cup placed in the center.

"What's going on?" Wendy asked Bebe.

"Witchcraft." Bebe told her, grinning at her best friend in anticipation.

The crowd of teens watched as the girls stared intently at the ball in the cup. When a minute had passed the girls succeeded in making the ball rise out of the cup of its own accord. The teens watched as the ball floated in mid air, making the jumps from one cup to the next, all without anyone touching it. The crowd applauded this.

"Keep watching, folks." Annie instructed.

"Yeah, the show's not over yet." Jenny added.

The girls began chanting something in a tongue no one around them could understand. The chanting got faster, and faster, until finally the beer in the cups was raised up by itself, and with magic the beer floated in the air, making a sort of swirling thing for the ping pong ball to dance through. This was all possible with the two witches chanting on and on.

The teens in the kitchen, which included Stan, Wendy, Bebe, and Craig, oohed and aah-ed over the shapes the liquid took, including an infinity symbol, a caduceus, and the Virgo and Capricorn symbol respectively.

The whole thing was impressive, and when it was over, everyone clapped for the girls.

"Thank you, thank you, we also do spells for profit. Anyone want a little magic in their lives? Come right to us." Jenny said.

Immediately the crowd in the kitchen began asking the prices of certain spells for certain things, some of them even insisted on pulling out money to show they were serious.

Bebe examined Stan and Wendy. She hadn't seen these two together in a long time. She thought it was weird, but she wouldn't question it. It didn't really matter, did it?

"Did you guys enjoy the show?" Lola asked.

"It was really cool." Stan admitted.

"Lola, you're a witch too, why didn't you join in?" Wendy asked her.

"Something that simple doesn't need more than two people to perform it. Although, it's not that hard to make something float in mid air." Lola told her.

"You enjoying yourself Stan?" Bebe asked him.

"Uh, yeah." He answered her.

"Think you'll ask Wendy to dance?" She asked him with a coy smile.

"No. Oh, no. Not to be mean, but, that's not something I'm looking to do right now." He explained, feeling a bit flustered.

Wendy was preoccupied with Lola showing her a bright green glowing ball she had conjured out of light that she held in the middle of her left hand, positioned opened palmed. The ball took the form of a tiny ballerina that danced around Lola's palm. Wendy held out her free hand and smiled as the tiny green ballerina gracefully landed on her hand to pirouette around her palm. Wendy smiled at the charming site.

"Craig dances with Tweek you know," Bebe informed Stan as she watched the tiny green ballerina that Lola had conjured dance on Wendy's open palm. "They dance together all the time."

"I really don't think, um, I mean isn't that sort of personal information?" Stan asked her.

"I thought everyone knew. But it's not like it's a secret. Craig won't dance with anyone else. What a show of commitment!" Bebe went on, completely ignoring Stan's embarrassment at her telling these scandalous things about the most intimidating guy in their school.

'I once walked in on them in the school's auditorium, they were in the middle of stage like two performers. Of course, they didn't know I was watching them, but that's what makes voeyuerism so much fun!"

Please stop talking about this, Stan thought.

Clyde Archibald Donovan came into the kitchen carrying a six pack. He was the hairiest member of the football team, and the most athletic boy in their grade. There were reasons for this, of course. He walked over to the small group at the end of the table.

"Hey Stan! Haven't seen ya in a while man, how you been?" Clyde asked.

Stan shrugged his shoulders.

"Same old, same old. You?"

"Eh. Can't complain. My condition isn't as bad as I once thought, but it's a real pain to shave every morning only to have my facial hair grow back in a day."

"I can't imagine. I can barely grow a moustache." Stan said.

"Ha ha...yeah. Oh hey Bebe!" Clyde exclaimed.

Bebe smirked at him.

"Hey yourself. Where have you been, I've been looking for you."

"Sorry, I was picking this up," He held the six pack up for her to see. "One of the benefits of my condition? No one cards me anymore."

Bebe laughed.

"It's not like you're a ZZ Top member, Clyde. Your facial hair only covers your upper lip, side burns, and chin. And it's not even long facial hair!"

"You oughta see it in its full glory then. Hey, wanna help me drink these?" He asked her.

"Sure!"

Bebe followed Clyde out into the backyard. Stan wondered if he was serious about letting her see the full extent of his hair growing abilities. He hoped he wasn't. That would have been incredibly dangerous.

Lola had moved on, and with her went the green ballerina made of light. Wendy had watched Clyde and Bebe's little interaction, and thought it too cute to say anything. But now that they were off doing their own thing, she decided to talk to Stan once more.

"You want anything to drink?" She asked him.

"Is there anything that doesn't have alcohol in it?" He asked her.

"Let's check." She said.

They went to the fridge, and found nothing. Stan let go of her hand, but he stayed close to her.

"Hey didn't Craig say something about going to the kitchen?" Wendy asked.

Stan shrugged his shoulders. He looked over at her, then they both turned their gaze on the crowd in the kitchen. Between the drinkers, the crowds wanting Jenny and Annie to perform more magic for them, they didn't see Craig anywhere.

"Maybe he left." Stan suggested.

"Yeah, maybe." Wendy agreed, glancing at Stan for a second before she shut the refrigerator.

They left the kitchen, and headed back into the living room. If it was possible, the living room was even more crowded than before. Stan and Wendy wedged their way through the mass of drunk dancing teens consuming alcohol and pixie sticks. They looked around for Craig, thinking he might be able to tell them something about the status of any non alcoholic beverages available for consumption; since no one else could be of any help, seeing as how they were all schnokered as all get out.

Wendy took Stan's hand again without looking at it. Stan noticed this, and as some La Roux song played above their heads, she lead him to the front door. They left the house, with Wendy shutting the door behind them as soon as they were both outside. While they stood on the front step, Wendy released Stan's hand.

Wendy saw the confused look on Stan's face.

"I thought you could do with some fresh air." She suggested.

Stan pressed his lips together briefly, considering this and then nodding yes. They looked at the purple sky above them, covered by clouds.

"It's nice out." Stan said.

Wendy lifted the corner of her lips into a small smile.

"Mmmhmm."

Two minutes of awkward silence passed. Behind them the party raged on, the noise coming through the closed door. In front of them, the street was completely silent.

"How are you?" Wendy asked, turning her body in Stan's direction, crossing her arms across her body.

Stan didn't look at her as he answered the question.

"You mean right now, or in general?"

Wendy looked at the Tucker's cement front step, trying to figure out a way to approach this.

"I mean,are you still upset about...well...you know."

Stan decided to give the most dramatic sigh as he looked her in the eyes.

"Honestly? Yes. I can't stop thinking about it. One of the few constants I had in my life was having Kyle as my best friend. And now he's...he's dumped me for some Frenchman. It hurts, Wendy. It hurts a lot."

"Stan, I'm sorry." Wendy told him.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Stan told her, giving her a gentle smile, "You didn't do anything. In fact I should be thanking you."

"For what?" Wendy asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"For being there when I needed someone. For bringing me around other people tonight. Can I tell you something? I'm actually having fun tonight. I am. I forgot what it's like to actually hang out with other people. Thank you Wendy."

Wendy's face lit up when Stan gave her a genuine happy smile.

"You're welcome. And thank you for, well, thanking me. It's nice to be appreciated."

"Well this is an interesting little scene."

Stan and Wendy jumped in the air, startled by the sound of a monotone voice. They looked to the right, and saw that in the driveway, partially covered in darkness was Craig, holding a plastic cup in one hand.

"How long have you been standing there?" Wendy asked, unfolding her arms.

Instead of answering, Craig stepped into the light, an gave them both a wicked smirk. It became clear that Craig had heard their entire conversation.


End file.
